Heart of Dust
by silvergryphon06
Summary: An ancient artifact is discovered and Earth's greatest heroes are summoned, hoping to gain understanding of the powerful force contained within. However, what they uncover is only a prelude, a taste of the destruction that looms. Rated M for future Chaps!
1. The Past Unsealed

_**A/N: Hello all! I know, I know... I just couldn't stay away from Cap and his amazing behind. So, here's a new fic that'll distract, fulfill, and entertain me. Don't worry, my other fics will be completed or continuing. I just had to get this out. Still, leave me a review and lemme know what you think!**_

* * *

The sun glittered in its reflection off the deep blue of the water. The lake stretched for many miles, surrounded on all sides by tall, tree-covered hills. Large, smooth rocks just out in various areas around the shoreline and, nestled just inside the forest line was a small cottage. Ivy clung to its log walls, curling upwards like the light smoke that drifted in the wind from its chimney. From the doorway slithered a path of even, white flagstone, leading to one of the large rocks.

On its surface sat a slender figure, her tawny colored eyes staring out over the lake, but not really seeing it. A softly green dress draped over her body, belted around the waist with a thin gold-threaded cord. Waves of warm honey-colored hair flowed around her shoulders and down her back, the color of the strands lustrous in the afternoon glow.

_**Your daughter will awaken soon**__._

"Aye, I know," was the quietly spoken answer, the voice lilting in its speech, "You've kept me quite informed over the years."

_**And yet you have not asked me how long you have slept.**_

"Does it matter if I know the length? Nothing is the same in the world now, or so you have told me. It has advanced, shifted, changed like the currents of the sea or the breath of the wind. Is that not how it has always been and will be?"

_**Your time in dreams has only enhanced your wisdom.**_

A sad smile flitted around her lips.

"And yet neither I nor your current champions can alone stop the _ndaoine__aer_ from attempting their plans."

_**You are right. Nevertheless, you will all try, will you not?**_

The woman did not answer right away, her gaze distant and still sorrowful.

"What other choice do we have, _mo chara__d'aois_?"

The words softly spoken brought her little comfort.

_**None that will save you.**_

* * *

Captain Steve Rogers prided himself on being prepared for nearly any situation. In the year that followed Loki's attack on the Earth, he had allowed Stark, among others, had introduced him, in varying degrees, to this new, modern world he had woken up in.

When Nick Fury called him in that morning, however, he really didn't know what to think. He knew that if he was being summoned, nothing good could be happening. Bucky would have accused him of being a pessimist and frankly, he wouldn't have argued with him. Seventy years trapped in ice and missing your first date with the woman of your dreams would do that to a man.

Steve strode through the sliding door of the current SHIELD base conference room. He wasn't certain where they were exactly; not even a hero was privy to every piece of information. He was also mildly surprised to see the infamous Tony Stark with his feet comfortably propped on the massive glass desk and leaning far back in the leather seat, catching a tossed baseball deftly with one hand. Steve nodded curtly.

"Mr. Stark."

"Oh, hey, old man. Say, did you know that SHIELD is branching into archeology these days?"

Tan fingers gestured to the brooding figure at the head of the table. Blue eyes flickered towards the director of the subject of Tony's rather contentious statement. Fury's hands were steepled in front of him as he leaned back in his chair, his face as impassive as always. His good eye met the Captain's silent stare evenly, shifting a finger to point at a nearby chair.

"Have a seat, Captain Rogers."

"Thanks."

Steve folded his tall frame into the small leather chair, linking his fingers together over his muscled stomach and leaning back slightly. The man of iron returned to his idle pitching, his bearded jaw working furiously at a piece of gum.

"So what's this I hear about archaeology?" Steve queried, swiveling the chair back and forth languidly.

Director Fury raised his finger once again.

"We're waiting on Dr. Banner. Once he arrives, we'll begin the debriefing."

The Captain's lips twisted into a deeper frown, his blue eyes cutting towards Stark again, who merely shrugged, his smile enigmatic. If Fury had brought in both scientists, then this was big, possibly dangerous, and more than likely going to get messy rather quickly. One couldn't avoid that fact when working with those two. So, Steve settled himself more comfortably in his chair and allowed his mind to wander as they silently waited.

More than likely, Steve deduced, whatever SHIELD had dug up, it was either for a specific purpose or someone else had stumbled across it. Either scenario was in the realm of possibility. And, if Fury had sent for him, this 'archaeological find' was probably related to him in some way, though what that could be, he wasn't certain. Perhaps it was another HYDRA weapon or piece of technology?

Steve glanced up again, his gaze landing on Stark again. The man had ceased throwing the ball and was now just wagging his finger in the air, as if he was working out some sort of mental equation. That was hardly surprising. The billionaire inventor was constantly in a whirlwind of activity, whether that be physically or mentally. The man had no idea what it meant to just sit still. Steve doubted that he could.

As these thoughts gently bumped into one another, the sliding door opened with a soft hiss and the last member of their little gathering entered with an apologetic expression.

"Sorry I'm late. I got turned around in those twisted tunnels. It's like a labyrinth down here," the doctor muttered as he sat down in the chair at Steve's elbow.

Pushing his glasses further up his nose, he leaned forward and braced his elbows on the shiny black surface of the table.

"So, what's the big mystery, Director? The earth on the cusp of invasion once again?"

Banner's tone was dry, but the thought had crossed Steve's mind that that might be the case. When Fury remained silent for another moment, Steve seriously began to entertain the idea. Finally, the director pressed his finger to the sleek console just in front of him, a series of quiet beeps echoing his motions. A screen lighted up in front of each of them and Tony immediately hunched forward, the pads of his fingers ghosting rapidly over the lit surface until, with a flourish, he swept his hand across it and his screen landed on the far wall behind Fury.

Steve glanced down with a mild scowl. He really hadn't gotten the hang of the infernal technology yet. Clumsily, he slid a large finger across the screen, the furrow of his brow deepening when nothing happened. Catching his movement out of the corner of his eye, Banner leaned over and tapped at the console and it shifted. Shooting the scientist a grateful look, Steve began to tentatively play with the display.

Fury stood and turned to the wall that Stark had illuminated, tugging at a single photograph and creating a 3D model, which he tossed to the center of the table.

"This, gentlemen, is Project Dust and it's why I called you all here."

Steve looked at the image curiously and with a quick glance, noted that the other men wore similiar expressions. It looked like a great stone box, and what he thought might be letters in a language he didn't recognize running across its rugged and chipped surface. Tilting his head, Steve squinted, trying to make out the words. Stark was a step ahead of him, however, fiddling with the model before making an expanding gesture. The script was pulled forward and up, mirroring the man of iron's motions, floating gently above the box's surface. With a swipe of his finger, he made the assumed letters larger and easier to read. With a final touch, he lifted a tiny device from his pocket and held it in front of the display. It made a whirling noise, followed by more beeping. With exaggerated elegance, the inventor brought the new image out of the small piece of technology and placed it over the other symbols. They morphed into the alphabet that Steve recognized easily, though the language was still indecipherable, in his opinion.

**Tá mé an glór an domhain. Tá mé an t-amhrán de na crainn. Tá mé an deannaigh go bhfuil dearmad am.**

Steve read the words carefully, slowly, but they meant nothing to him.

"Ta men-ta-ta manderian-it's a chinese take-out order? Hell, I give up," Stark turned his attention to the taller man standing to his left, "What does it say?"

Before Fury could answer, Banner tilted his head, his forefinger and thumb lightly gripping his glasses to adjust them again.

"It's Irish Gaelic, or some older form of it, I can tell that much, but I have no idea how to read it."

"We had it translated. Loosely, we think it says, 'I am the voice of the earth. I am the song in the trees. I am the dust that time has forgotten'."

Stark let out a snort.

"Great, lovely lines. Truly, worthy of Billy Shakes. In fact, I'm getting that tattooed on my left buttock. It'll make the pin-up girl on the right look classier."

Steve's lips twitched slightly and he heard the doctor to his right let out a quiet cough. Then Banner inclined his head towards Fury.

"So what does this have to do with us?"

"Look closely at that box, gentleman. What does it look like to you?"

Steve let his eyes wander over the structure. Feeling a bit more secure after watching Stark, he lifted his hand and made a spinning motion, causing the image to rotate. He did some estimations in his head.

"It's a coffin," he murmured.

"Precisely, Captain, precisely."

Fury began to pace the room, slowly circling the table and its occupants.

"Dr. Banner, I assume that you, at least, are familiar with the excavation at Sutton Hoo, in Suffolk, England?"

The doctor nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, at least vaguely. It was almost twenty years ago, I think. There were a great many artifacts discovered, along with some rather astonishing leaps made in piecing together more information about the ancient Celts that lived in the area, around the fourth, fifth century?"

"That's correct. We, meaning humanity, knows very little about that civilization and the artifacts that were found did shed some light on a very dark part of our history. However, questions still remain."

"Yeah, nice history lesson, can we get to the point?" This came from Stark, who was looking absolutely bored, his cheek cupped in his palm.

"I am, Mr. Stark," Fury replied calmly before continuing, his hand trailing the back of an empty chair, "The history books argue on a number of points regarding that time period. There are few written accounts and those are most definitely questionable. In fact, there is no one reliable source of information that has ever been found to date. Until now."

Fury gestured to the floating stone casket before minimizing it and pulling forward a digital map. Photographs began to flash as he shifted his hand.

"Two months ago, a group of graduate students and their professor stumbled across a sunken chamber in the county of Somerset, England, near Glastonbury."

A shot of three grinning young people waved at the camera while a white-haired man with a full beard stood behind them with a wide smile. They were standing in front of a large, oblong green hill. Just behind them, Steve could make out what looked to be a gaping hole that had been torn into the base of the hill. The next picture was a close up, revealing an ancient looking set of steps that steadily, if unevenly, marched down into darkness.

"There are a number of legends, myths, that pervade the area and have for centuries," Fury continued, gesturing, "Most have been discounted as just that, myths and little evidence has ever supported even the most probable of theories. Of course, we have learned a bit about dismissing the unknown or unseen as nonexistent. But this discovery held the potential to perhaps alter the more common, global view of such things."

Banner interrupted, taking off and pointing his glasses at the small box, frowning.

"If nothing else, that sarcophagus is proof that the Celts had an alphabet, perhaps even the first one created after the Latin the Romans developed and used. That-that alone should have rocked the scientific community to its bedrock," he turned to Fury with a hard look, "This should have been all over the news. Journals, universities, lectures, the academic world would be buzzing about this for years."

The director only offered a small shake of his head.

"That would not have been the wisest idea."

He flicked at the display and Steve had to look away, the sound of Stark making a quiet retching sound reaching his ears.

A chamber was dimly illuminated in a soft green glow, dank-looking, darkly pigmented walls stained with what could only be blood. Body parts were scattered on the floor, flesh and fabric still clinging to the remnants of what had once been people. He recognized the older man, his neck severed from the rest of him, bland, fish like eyes staring up at nothing, his features forever frozen in an expression of awful surprise. In the center of it all was the coffin, its surface glimmering and even from just a still, Steve could sense power.

Fury turned off the images and returned the box to its former position.

"This artifact that these unfortunate scholars found was shielded by some kind of energy, unlike anything we've ever encountered. We managed to secure it safely, but so far, our attempts to open it have proven unsuccessful. The forcefield around the casket maybe sentient or it may just be some kind of ancient technology programmed to attack when it perceives a threat. We're not sure and we didn't want to risk any more lives being taken by it. So we sealed it in one of our most secure vaults, until such time that we could try again. However, last week, it began to behave...strangely."

Steve glanced over, his forefinger and thumb resting against his chin.

"What do you mean?"

The director swiped his hand and a video popped up on the wall. The footage was shaky and a little blurry, but Steve could make out that someone, no, several someones, were navigating their way through a maze of crates, covered objects. The sound was scratchy, suggesting the video was definitely low quality, but he could still hear a low humming noise. A man's voice came through, clearly asking a question, but he couldn't make out the words. The figure in front of him shook his head and waved his hand, signaling to move forward. The humming got louder and Steve focused his attention on one corner of the screen. He pointed.

"There, to the left. It's that same glow."

Sure enough, the figures rounded a corner, light escaping from tiny cracks in a large steel container. A surge of some type of energy crackled and danced over the metal surface, illuminating the letters:

SHIELD DANGER

Feeling apprehensive, he made himself watch, looking for clues or hints that might reveal the nature of the thing that the archaeologists uncovered. Another surge of energy flashed as one man apparently got too close. It flickered and struck out like a bolt of lightning, bursting through the unlucky operative in a shower of blood and gore. It lashed again, like a whip that coiled and flailed, striking another man whose scream reverberated in the dead silence of the conference room. There was a gasp, followed by a whimpering sound as the energy sizzled again, drawing in on itself, the cameraman backing away before dropping the recorder and obviously running for his life. Steve doubted that he made it because there was another scream just before the video blacked out.

"Yeah," Stark said quietly after an awful silence, "That's...that's real strange behavior."

"Indeed," Fury replied evenly, "We lost four good operatives. The box was moved after that and brought here for study. Now, that's where you three come in."

He turned to regard each of them with his good eye, his voice hard as galvanized steel.

"Mr. Stark, I would greatly appreciate if you and Dr. Banner would have a look at this thing and tell me what the hell killed my men."

Steve leaned back, re knitting his fingers together.

"Well that makes sense, but why bring me in?"

The director gave him a speculative glance before narrowing his gaze.

"Because when we open this thing up, I suspect we're going to need all the help we can get. I'm not the kind of man to gamble twice on a losing streak. And Captain, we've lost enough."

* * *

So Steve found himself standing beside Dr. Banner in a well-shielded, very secluded laboratory far below the surface. Stark had donned his suit, in a rather unusual display of caution and was currently circling the sarcophagus. Hooking his thumbs in the loops of his belt, Steve let his gaze move between the two scientists, feeling absolutely useless. Screens beeped, machines whirled and hummed around him, and the other members of the team might as well have been speaking in the tongue carved into the white stone they were examining.

"Sandstone composition is average, nothing unusual there," Stark's voice came over the speaker, his tone thoughtful, "No strange alloys present that I can detect."

"What can JARVIS tell us about the energy field?"

"From what I can gather, it's not extraterrestrial and it's not magnetic, though the charge readings are off the charts. Whatever is surrounding this thing is powerful, but I'm more concerned with why it isn't attacking me standing so close to it."

"Good question," Steve commented, trying to get a foot in on the conversation, "maybe it's alive like Fury thinks?"

"If it was, don't you think it would have responded by now?"

A flush rose to his cheeks at Banner's casual dismissal. He let it go. Banner wasn't being flippant, he was just as puzzled as the rest of them. Tony spoke up.

"I have a theory that it's something else. It's like a motion sensing barrier, or, more precisely, an intention sensing barrier."

"That still suggests sentience."

"Not really. A field made of relatively dormant psionic energy isn't that far-fetched these days, now is it? More probable than Captain Star Spangled Tights losing his virginity."

Steve scowled, but didn't rise to the bait; that only encouraged him. Instead, he watched with mild interest as Stark lifted an arm, the telltale blue light of some kind of scanning device blinking as he slowly swiveled his torso back and forth. Nothing happened and Stark dared to take a step closer.

The box remained dull and lifeless. His helmet tilted as the lights over his eyes began a rapid blinking.

"What's he doing?" Steve asked the shorter man at his side, lifting his chin to gesture at the armored inventor.

Banner tapped the screen in front of him with a finger.

"He's performing an X-ray."

"Holy mother of-"

"What? what?" Steve asked quickly, leaning over the doctor's shoulder as the other man's eyes widened in tandem with Stark's outburst.

"There's-there's something inside the sarcophagus and it-it looks like a body," Bruce stammered, his fingers skimming over the keys in front of him.

With a flick of his wrist, he brought up another display, pointing at a large bluish blob.

"Right there, can you see it?"

Steve shook his head.

"Looks like a splotch to me, Doc."

Banner manipulated the image, expanding portions, trying to clean up the picture. After several heartbeats, Steve could see the beginnings of what looked like a human shape. Stark's startled grunt distracted him however and he jerked his head up. The Iron Man was backing away from the coffin as it let out a low, steady humming sound.

"Stark, get out of there!" Steve barked but Tony shook his head.

"I can handle it. Just keep a finger on the door button, will ya? I do not want to explain to Pepper why I had to come home with more holes than I left with."

Before either of the other two men could reply, the ornately carved lid of the coffin began to move, a grinding sound echoing the hum of what Steve could only assume was the energy shield deactivating. Slowly, the crack on the top of the casket widened and the Captain could see that same greenish glow softly flickering inside. But he felt frozen; his limbs didn't want to move. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the ever expanding gap. Finally, the lid slid off, falling to the concrete floor with a loud crash.

The interior of the box darkened as its cover fell away, only revealing a deep, gloomy-looking interior. Stark waited for several breaths before he started to approach again, his voice soft.

"The energy signature is gone. It's just a box now, but I'm getting readings that there's something alive in there."

That made Steve feel even more on edge when he noticed movement coming from the sarcophagus.

"Can you tell what it is?" Dr. Banner asked quietly.

"It seems...human."

Stark's steps brought him to the edge of the coffin and he peered inside, the bulbs over the helmet's eyes lighting the interior of the casket.

"It's a body. Not moving and wrapped in a burial shroud, I think. Wait-"

Stark leaned closer and Steve strove to be able to see, waiting as the tension tightened in his gut.

"Let me see if I can-"

He didn't finish the sentence, carefully reaching inside and gently unwrapping the cloth where the head would be. Steve heard him let out a surprised breath, followed by a low whistle.

"Hey, Cap, go get a medic. It's a woman, most definitely alive. And man, wait till you get a look at her."


	2. Strange Awakenings

**Disclaimer: I forgot this little thingie, but, to keep everything nice and friendly, I own nothing! Not mine! (Though if anyone can track me down a cut-out of the Cap in those awesome tights, well...nevermind, not going there...*shiver*)**

* * *

Steve dashed out of the laboratory, his boots skidding to a stop with a squeak as he spotted Nick Fury and Agent Hill rounding a corner. Two men in white coats trailed behind them and he assumed that they were the medical team that Stark had asked for. He jerked a thumb behind him and Fury nodded.

"Captain, Agent Hill will escort you to the med bay. We'll be along shortly."

Steve gave the director a curt nod and fell into step beside the willowy brunette. They didn't speak and that was just fine with him. She was an attractive woman, but there was a cold hardness to her that just made him wary. Her spine was ramrod straight, her eyes possessing a constant gleam that he perceived as calculating, speculative. Agent Hill was an excellent choice to cover your flank in a fight, but the Captain had a gut feeling that when the blows had all been thrown, it was best to not turn your back to her. She may have been the director's right hand, but he didn't doubt for a moment that she would usurp that balance of power if she deemed it necessary. While he could understand that, might even support it when the day came, he didn't like being unaware of what angle she would be playing. There was no question she was loyal to her country, but how deep did that patriotism run before it hit self-preservation?

Steve rolled his broad shoulders as he kept his stride shortened to match hers. By the time the large doors of what Steve assumed was the base's medical facility, Stark and Banner were already waiting. As he drew even with them, Fury strode through the doors, his trench coat billowing behind him. Flicking a fingertip towards the wall, part of it dissolved, revealing a window into the room just beyond. The men and Agent Hill gathered around the glass.

As Steve's eyes roamed over more beeping, blinking machines, sterile metallic surfaces, his gaze was drawn to the table where the two medics hovered. One shifted and Steve suddenly realized what Stark had been talking about.

The first thing he noticed was the tattoos. Sweeping spirals, a brown that stood out vividly against the warm cream color of her skin, twisted and coiled across her cheeks, down her neck and arms. Her face wasn't heart-stoppingly beautiful, but it was pretty, with high cheekbones, full pink lips, and a straight, Romanesque nose. Hair the color of a shot of whiskey cascaded around her shoulders in waves, curling at the ends. His eyes wandered down to her the shroud began and he realized with a slight blush that he had been ogling her like one of those posters outside the dirty movie house. Granted, the other men were pretty much doing the same thing, but still...he had been raised better.

"She will wake up in a few moments, Director," a voice crackled from an intercom that he hadn't noticed, "Vital signs are normal, but there does seem to be an unusually high amount of brain wave activity."

"Noted, stay on your toes. We don't know how she's going to react when she gets up."

Steve half turned, his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Let me go in there," Fury looked over at him and he shrugged, "I can relate to waking up in an unfamiliar world."

Fury stared for several heartbeats but then he nodded, reaching over and pressing a button.

"Jenkins, Henderson, good work. Now vacate, the Captain is going to help our guest adjust to her new enviroment."

Steve glared at the director. Guest? he thought bitterly. More like a prisoner until they figured out what other cage was going to suit her.

The men inside didn't even react, just up and left as the large doors swung open and Steve stepped around the others and through the open doorway, but Stark caught his arm. He pressed a small device into his palm.

"Here. We don't know if she'll understand English. Put it on your neck, near your throat and it'll calibrate to whatever language she'll be speaking. You'll be able to understand her and shamelessly flirt without the rest of us ever knowing."

Steve gave him an exasperated, but curious look.

"Since when were you interested in languages?"

"I'm not, but I've always been very interested in women, no matter their nationality," Stark replied with a wink.

Rolling his eyes, he nodded and turned on his heel.

He passed the two medics with a nod as the doors shut behind them. The woman was still, the only movement that he could see being the rise and fall of her chest and the wavering behind her eyelids. He stepped closer, his hands loose at his sides. Reaching out, he grabbed a chair, turning and straddling it, his arms crossing over the back in a casual pose. The silence that hung in the air was tense, waiting as if everyone held their breath.

Steve kept his eyes focused on her face, fingering the small device for a moment before he placed it at the base of his throat, just above the collar of his shirt. Her eyelids fluttered and Steve did, in fact, hold his breath as her eyes slowly opened. They were unfocused as she sluggishly blinked. Then, their gaze sharpened as she took a deep breath, hissing it in between clenched teeth. Carefully, she shifted her arms, bracing on her elbows and starting to sit up. She wasn't panicking, so that was a good sign. Steve kept still, knowing better than to make any sudden movements. When she caught sight of him, however, as her head turned in his direction, she froze.

That was when he could see that her eyes were, in fact, a bright, vibrant and silvery shade of viridian. And when they landed on him, it was as if there was nothing else about her, they were so striking. With an exaggerated slowness, he lifted his hands, palms towards her, the universal signal of being unarmed.

She tilted her head at him, her expression wary, but also curious.

"_áit a__bhfuil mé__?__" _she asked softly, her voice hushed, but lilting in its tone and inflection.

He understood the question, even without the device. It was the same question he had posed when he had woken up the first time after being in the ice. Feeling very self-conscious about trusting the little machine, it would be Stark's idea of a great prank if it didn't work at all, he let out a breath and parted his lips.

"_You're safe, for the moment. We are in an underground camp for a group that protects," _the words flowed out of him, like music in the way they were spoken, and it utterly surprised him.

Her eyebrows rose and she sat up further, rubbing the back of her head with a grimace. The shroud slipped further down her chest, but Steve kept his gaze on her face. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before a slender hand lifted to pinch the bridge of her nose. A small groan slipped past her lips.

"_You-ugh-you…speak the language of my people, strange one?"_ she asked, her eyes opening to regard him again, lowering her hand with a scowl. "_Ow, ow...my body feels so stiff."_

He tapped the small device at his throat.

"_This helps me to speak to you, yes. You've been in that coffin for a long time, so you're probably going to feel like that for a while."_

_"We are underground, you said?" _she asked and he nodded, a motion that she copied. "_That explains why the earth is loud in my ears."_

That confused him but he decided that she could answer that question later.

_ Can you speak any English?"_

She frowned at him, swinging her legs around and letting them dangle over the table.

"English?" she said the word slowly, like it felt thick and heavy in her mouth, distasteful.

He removed the little machine and cleared his throat, offering her a small, friendly smile.

"Yes, can you speak my language? English?"

Her eyes widened, then narrowed suddenly and she snarled at him, scrambling to her feet and dashing around the table, putting it between them. Somehow the shroud still managed to keep itself wrapped around her, but with every movement, it slipped lower. It was barely hugging the the curves of her upper body as it was, exposing more of those strange tattoos, and Steve wasn't sure how he was going to handle it if it fell completely off. Her fists slammed into the metal surface, her eyes flashing and bringing his thoughts slamming back into the current predicament.

"_M__ac tíre__na farraige_!" she hissed at him, bitterly spitting out the words as if they were vile.

"No, no, no- aw, Christ," Steve put the little thing back against his throat, putting his palm against his forehead for a moment, struggling to find the right words. He lifted his eyes to hers, noting that she still wore a mask of barely controlled fury. Her entire body was shaking, but it seemed like she was trying to comprehend everything around her. He realized then that she had to be scared out of her mind. He knew he had been and he felt his frustration rolling back a bit. He could empathize with that feeling.

"_Listen to me_, y_ou've been asleep for a very long time," _he tried to keep his voice soft, soothing, "_We found you in that stone coffin. Many, many things have changed since you closed your eyes. More things have occured since you entered the realm of dreams than I could ever hope to explain," _the manner of speech was strange to him, but it still rolled easily off his tongue.

Her fists unclenched, her eyes softening and the features of her face relaxing. Something almost sad flickered in her expression.

"_Then we lost?" _the question was softly spoken, murmured to herself more than to him. She bent her head and took in a shaky breath.

Steve dared to stand up and he watched her head snap back up, wary, watchful, though her eyes held a brightness that he suspected might have been tears.

"_I don't know if your people lost or won," _he told her honestly, "_And I'm not sure that anyone here could tell you."_

She still looked suspicious, but nodded to him, straightening. She tilted her head at him again.

"_Do you know if the dogs from the sea conquered us? Do you know if any of us survived? We are the people of the hills, the bringers of words and the guardians of the trees? Do you know us?" _her eyes did mist this time, her voice shaking a tiny bit, "_Does anyone remember us?"_

It was a desperate question, from someone who already knew the answer and Steve really wished that he could have given her the one that she wanted to hear but he shook his head. He wouldn't be anything else than honest with her. He knew that he had wanted that, even if he hadn't gotten it.

"_I'm sorry, but I don't know and I don't know of anyone who does. Many seasons have come and gone while you slept, too many to count and too many to remember each one." _

The sorrow on her face made his gut tighten unpleasantly. She lowered her head again, her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. He let her have a few moments of silence. She probably needed them more than she needed him to say anything else. Unfortunately, this wasn't going to get any easier for her. Finally, she lifted her head again, her eyes red, but clear and nodded to him.

"Here?" she queried and he returned the nod, removing the device again.

"Yes. Do you speak English?" he repeated and she nodded again.

"I know… some …your words," she answered haltingly, lifting fingers to her chin, her eyes darting around as if she hoped to find the words engraved on the walls, "Had… learn for…war," she gestured to her ears, "Hear better…than speak."

Keeping his movements deliberate, Steve slipped out of his leather jacket and held it out towards her, stepping just close enough to lay it on the table in front of her. Then he put the small device next to the coat and moved back again. He pointed to it and then to her.

"You might get cold in just that sheet there. Here, and this," he gestured to Stark's little machine, "will help you speak English better. Good trade?"

Her brow furrowed a moment as she took in what he said, then carefully lifted the jacket and swept it around her shoulders. Steve felt his lips twitch at how it seemed to swallow her. She pushed her arms through the sleeves and gave her fingers an experimental wiggle. Finally, she nodded, offering him a tiny, appreciative smile before gingerly picking up the tiny device.

"Magic stone?" she asked, holding it up to get a better look at it and Steve shook his head.

"Not exactly. Put it here," he placed his fingers against his throat. Hesitantly, she mimicked the motion, but stopped just before it touched her skin.

He nodded to her with an encouraging smile.

"Trust me," he told her softly and tried to convey his honesty through his eyes as they bored into hers from across the small table.

He certainly didn't trust anyone when he woke up, but then, he didn't have anyone who could understand what he had been going through. At least Fury had been willing to let him try this. Hopefully, she'd take him at his word. Although, he had to admit that he wouldn't blame her if she didn't.

* * *

Outside the room, Stark angled his head as he watched the tense exchange.

"How the hell does he do that?"

Dr. Banner shot him a glance.

"How does he do what?"

Stark pointed to the Captain.

"How does he just stand there and not look at her? I mean, Jesus, at least show a glimmer of interest in the woman. It's not natural, man," Tony shook his head and Banner just stared at him.

"What does Pepper see in you?"

The question was, of course, meant to be rhetorical, but he realized his mistake as soon as Tony grinned. Their conversation was cut short however, thankfully, when the woman lifted her hand behind the glass, her face appearing torn between distrustful and hopeful.

* * *

Biting her lip, she let out a breath and held the machine to her throat. Now it was his turn to tilt his head at her.

"My name is Steve Rogers. Can you tell me your name?"

She took a step back, still watching him cagily.

"I was not given a name. I did not earn one," her eyes widened at the words that spilled from her lips, covering her mouth with a hand, her expression one of awe. Her accent was thick, but lyrical and Steve thought she sounded almost British. She looked back up at him accusingly, "You said the stone was not magic."

He shook his head.

"It isn't, at least, here it isn't, though I guess to you it would probably seem so. Now," he gave her another smile, "if you don't have a name, what do you want to be called?"

She gave him a confused frown.

"I-I cannot receive a name that I have not been given. There is no honor in what is not earned, Steve Rogers."

Steve shook his head at her again.

"Things have changed. You can have whatever name you want here."

Her frown deepened.

"You keep saying here. Where is here? Or," she dropped her gaze, seemingly struggling to find the right words, "When…is here? Exactly how long have I…slept?"

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair, before crossing his arms and jerking his head towards the table.

"You might want to sit down for this."

She shook her head, miming his pose and bracing her bare feet, her chin lifting. As she moved, Steve's eyes strayed down to see that her legs were long and shapely, peeking through the folds of the shroud, but he snapped his gaze back up when she spoke again.

"I am not a child. I can take whatever news you have for me."

He let out another breath.

"Look, it's a really long story and I think you'd probably feel better if you had some more clothing to put on, don't you? Or at least something to eat? You've got to be hungry."

She held out her arm and tugged at the leather sleeve with her other hand, a bewildered look on her face.

"Is this not…clothing?" she said the word like it possessed a strange flavor.

He smiled at her and let out a chuckle.

"Well, yeah, I guess, but you're going to need more of it. For your legs. And shoes for your feet. You'll look strange when we leave this place looking like that."

She looked down at her bare feet with a frown.

"Why? Is it very cold where we are going? Where are we going? And why are we going? Will you answer my questions only if I go with you?"

Steve held up his hands with a smile.

"Look, I know you have questions and I'll try to answer them, but I have friends who have more knowledge than I do about what you want to know."

She looked at him solemnly.

"You are a fighter, not a healer?"

"Yeah, I guess you could call it that."

"You did not awaken me, then?"

"No, you woke up on your own."

He rubbed the back of his neck and she watched him with a considerate countenance, like she was absorbing the information and it was not what she had been expecting.

"You are a warrior for your tribe?" she guessed and he thought a moment before nodding.

"I suppose that's close enough."

She opened her mouth, to ask something else, he thought but he cut her off, changing the subject.

"You still haven't said what you wanted me to call you."

She closed her lips, lifting her hand again and tapping her chin thoughtfully. Then she shook her head.

"I do not know of a name that I would be worthy of. And the name you have told me is strange to my ears, Steve Rogers. What does it mean?"

Steve just shrugged.

"Names don't exactly have meaning here. You're called whatever your parents decide to name you when you're born."

Now she seemed truly confused and he immediately regretted the explanation. Good grief, where the hell was Stark when he needed him? He was so much better at the conversation thing, especially with women, than Steve had ever been.

"But…how do they know what you will be when you are just a babe?"

"They don't, it's-," he stopped, running a hand through his short brown hair in exasperation, "Look, I said that my friends would help you understand, so you'll just have to wait for them to explain it to you, alright?"

Hesitantly, she nodded, biting her lip again and he continued, "Alright. Come on, we'll get you something else to wear, something to eat and try to think of something to call you."

He held out his hand to her, hoping she understood the gesture. She stared at his outstretched hand for a long moment, looking as though she was weighing her options. Finally, however, she reached out and placed her hand over his. His fingers gently closed around her smaller ones and he offered her another easy smile. She was as nervous as a newborn colt, the muscles of her hand twitching when he tugged her closer to him.

Struck with a thought, he looked down at her with a sudden boyish grin.

"How about we call you Ellie? You look like an Ellie."

Her forehead wrinkled as she glanced up at him.

"What is an 'Ellie'? And what do they look like?"

He shrugged, still grinning.

"It's just a name that a lot of girls go by. Or they used to. It suits you, I think."

"Ellie," she repeated slowly, frowning in concentration, "Ellie…Ellie…I like how it sounds," she admitted with a tiny smile.

She tilted her head up at him, her eyes swirling with questions, emotions, and, strangely enough, a tiny flicker of acceptance. That was good, he thought. All the same, he doubted that she was going to handle any of this well. He certainly hadn't.

"I'm glad," he gave her hand a comforting squeeze, letting his more brooding thoughts go for the moment. He then dropped her hand and beckoned her to follow him, warning,"This isn't going to be easy for you to adjust to. The world is nothing like the one you left, so it's going to be like being a child all over again. You're going to have to relearn everything you thought you knew."

Worrying at her lip with her teeth, she nodded.

"I understand, Steve Rogers and I will trust you," the rest of that sentence hung silently between them.

_I will trust you until you prove otherwise._

As he guided her towards the large doors, her hands bunching the material of the shroud at her hips so that she wouldn't trip over it, he silently hoped that he was the one proven wrong.

Watching her struggle with the heavy linen, he wasn't very optimistic.

* * *

_**A/N: And that's chapter 2, gang! Thank you all for the favs and alerts and a big thank you to LoveLive218 for her review. If you're enjoying the read, please follow her example and let me know, they make my day and keep me writing! Stay tuned for the next exciting installment, where questions will only lead to more before they find answers. Till next time!**_


	3. Always Question

Steve brushed past and held the doors open for her. When she peeked around the corner warily, he fought back the smile that threatened to curve his lips. It wasn't really all that funny, but just watching her in his jacket, peering around the edge of the doorway and looking for the entire world like an inquisitive child tickled him for some reason. Nodding to the others, he stepped around her and held out his hand to her. Her strange viridian eyes cut across to him cautiously, a gaze that he met evenly. With his free hand, he motioned over the three men that were still in the hallway. Agent Hill seemed to have disappeared, not that Steve minded. He seriously doubted the woman's presence would be helpful to Ellie at the moment. He noticed that Fury was trailing behind the two scientists and he sent the director a questioning glance, but the one-eyed man just shook his head.

As Stark and Banner drew near, Steve cleared his throat, gesturing first to them, then to Ellie.

"Mr. Stark, Dr. Banner, this is Ellie, she's-"

"It is not my name," she cut him off hastily, her head poking out further around the door, and he quirked an eyebrow at her, which seemed to embarrass her, because she flushed before adding in a mumble, "It is the name that Steve Rogers has given me."

Now it was Stark's turn to raise an eyebrow, but Steve just stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

"She looks like an Ellie to me."

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but Bruce took a step forward, his head tilted.

"Ellie is a very pretty name," he told her with a gentle voice and a soft smile.

She glanced between him and Steve with a hesitant expression. The captain nodded to her quietly and she slowly stepped around the wall, her fingers digging into the leather cuffs of his jacket. Ellie looked up at the two men silently, her expression one of clear mistrust. Stark crossed his arms with a smirk.

"Not as pretty as what it belongs to," he quipped, eyes roving over her and she stepped closer to Steve, almost ducking behind him.

Steve held back another grin as he peered down at her, her body bent sideways to peer from behind his broad shoulder. He noted that the top of her head would just barely brush beneath his chin, adding to the childlike illusion. He had been mildly surprised when she hadn't asked any questions about their enviroment. Perhaps she took it for granted that this was what underground looked like? Steve shook away the curious question, deciding he would ask some of his own later. Slowly, he caught the edge of his jacket wrapped around her small frame and, with mild tugging, brought her from behind him.

"It's alright," he kept his voice low and soothing, his eyes flashing in a silent warning towards Stark, "They aren't going to bite you."

Ellie looked up at him with a startled expression.

"You mean they would?"

He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with a free hand.

"No, no, Ellie, that's not what I meant. I-"

"What Steve is trying to say is that he didn't intend for you to take that phrase literally," Bruce cut in smoothly, "Except for Mr. Stark here, he might bite you, but that would be his way of being friendly."

Tony quirked an eyebrow.

"Only at the lady's request."

Ellie laughed quietly and nodded, the tension in her shoulders relaxing somewhat beneath the large jacket.

"I believe I understand your meaning, Dr. Banner. Forgive me, I am not used to the manner in which you speak. It is very," she paused a moment, as if groping in her mind for the right word, "informal."

Bruce tilted his head towards her, nudging a finger at the rim of his glasses.

"I suppose that's as accurate a summation of the English language as you'll ever come across."

Steve touched her elbow and she looked up at him again as he gestured with his free hand.

"Ellie, the man in black here is Nick Fury, the director of SHIELD."

Her brows drew together as she digested what he told her, but she turned her attention to the one-eyed man.

"You are a chieftain?"

Fury nodded.

"Something like that. Welcome to SHIELD, Ms. Ellie."

At his words, she inclined her head, her left fist thumping her chest twice. The director seemed to recognize the motion because he shook his head, his arms firmly crossed over his chest.

"No need for formalities. I'm not that important of a person. Still, you must be hungry. Captain, will you escort Ms. Ellie to the conference room? I'll have something delivered there shortly. Make a stop at the door just before you get there, I've sent Agent Hill ahead with some clothes for her."

Steve nodded and Ellie murmured her thanks, looking very uncomfortable, and relieved, as they started to move down the hall, Banner and Stark trailing after them. As they turned a corner, Ellie leaned closer to him, her voice low, her tone uncertain.

"Steve Rogers, what makes a man a chieftain here?"

He shook his head and let out a soft chuckle.

"Just call me Steve, Ellie. Rogers is my last name, like a family name. And I guess that a man comes to be in charge by being capable, a strong leader."

Ellie nodded, her face pensive as they wound through the maze of corridors.

"So, to become a chieftain, a person must show strength? That is all?"

Steve shrugged.

"Well, I'm sure there's more to it than that, but I don't think I'm the person to ask. I'm just a soldier."

Ellie opened her mouth, as if to ask something else, but then seemed to change her mind, instead chewing on her bottom lip for several long moments. Finally, she spoke again.

"Nick Fury is a strong man," she stated, but Steve thought that there might have been an undercurrent of meaning hiding beneath that statement.

"You don't sound convinced."

Ellie shook her head.

"No, he is very strong…but he smells of bear."

Steve looked down at her bewildered.

"What do you mean by that?"

Her eyes were hard as they met his evenly.

"They reek of rage…and hunger, consuming everything in their path. They are the messengers of Craiya."

Bruce leaned closer, interest glittering behind his glasses.

"Craiya, you say? It's been a long time since I heard that name outside of a classroom."

Ellie glanced back at him, clearly perplexed, but Steve jumped in.

"Here we go," Steve opened the door and gave Ellie a nudge.

She looked inside hesitantly and Steve gave her a little push.

"Go on, it's alright. We'll be waiting for you out here when you're finished."

Ellie looked up at him with her wide eyes and Steve gave her an encouraging smile. He looked past her to see Agent Hill standing in the room with her arms crossed, leaning back against a wall and watching them. He tapped Ellie's shoulder and pointed.

"That woman is the one called Agent Hill. She'll help you get some new clothes."

Ellie bit her lip again, looking down at the floor and Steve could see that she was uncomfortable. He turned her around gently by the shoulders, bending down a little so that she would meet his gaze.

"Hey, I'll be right out here, alright? Just give a shout and I'll come running if anything happens."

He was stunned to see anger flash through her eyes, like a silver fin flickering beneath the green depths of a pond. Coldly, she brushed his hands away.

"I am not a child, Steve. I do not need your protection."

Where did this come from? Just a little while ago she was almost cowering behind him. Now she wanted to act proud? Steve shook his head, frustration leaking into his features. He scowled down at her.

"Fine. We'll be outside," he told her curtly, spinning her around a giving her a small push into the room.

Turning on his heel, he closed the door behind him and let out a breath. Leaning back against the wall, he shoved his hands into his jean pockets as the other two men loitered in the hallway with him. She was scared and in a completely new environment. He could relate to that, hell, he had been her a year ago. Ellie's shifting emotions revealed a woman trying to cope with the strangeness, to adapt and survive. It was the basest of human reactions for her to move between denial, fear, anger, sadness. It was all normal, so why did her words sting like that?

Because you always want to protect things, the little voice at the back of his head said, it's why you became a soldier. And she did seem like she needed someone to look after her, he thought. Yet, the way she had reacted after she had awoke, she was fast, very fast, and agile. Her limbs, or what he had seen of them, were leanly muscled and the hand that had gripped his possessed strength. No, she didn't need a caretaker, he mused, but she did need someone to teach her, to show her how this new, alien world worked. In that way, they were perhaps more alike than he had initially considered.

Breaking out of his reverie, Steve watched Tony fidget for a moment as Bruce stared up at the pipe-lined ceiling, not really seeing it. A different thought struck Steve then.

"Who's this Craiya?"

The scientist was silent for a moment before answering, his gaze coming down from whatever he had been really seeing in his mind's eye.

"She's also called Lady Death by the more romantic tale spinners," Banner said slowly, "Historians think she was a goddess worshipped by the ancient British people before the Roman occupation, over two thousand years ago."

Steve looked at him blankly, trying to process the information.

"Ellie's nearly two thousand years old?"

Bruce shrugged.

"Give or take, yeah, I'd say so."

Steve let that roll around in his head for a bit before breaking the silence again, curiousity taking root.

"So she was kind of like Hades from Greek mythology? She ruled hell or something like that?"

Bruce shook his head as Tony muttered to himself, the inventor's hands busy roving over his suit. Steve figured that he was making mental adjustments to the armor, but he could also just be talking to the voices in his head. With Stark, there just wasn't any certainty, of sanity or anything else for that matter.

"Craiya was responsible for ferrying the dead to the afterlife, but she didn't rule it. No one did. At least, that's what the academic community understands based on very limited information. Most of what has survived from that time in history was passed down through storytellers. It's like with any other dead civilization; the myths linger long after the people are forgotten," Bruce shrugged again, pushing his glasses back up his nose, "From what little we understand of the Celtic culture before and after the Romans invaded, death was a release. It was freedom from the harshness of living day to day in a very brutal enviroment. To put it simply, death was life, and hope."

Steve was quiet. It was interesting, he admitted, and he wondered if Ellie held that kind of view of death. Did her people believe like that? Were they older than the Romans? Did they coexist? The questions crytsallized in his mind only to bring up others. There was alot he wanted to ask Ellie and he was certain that the other two men felt the same. And if they had questions, he would bet every cent he had that SHIELD had even more. Did she have abilities? Was she really human? Did she create that forcefield? If so, how? If not, how was it made? Who made it? Why had she been sealed away?

Add to that the fact that he wasn't entirely certain that Fury would take no for an answer and you had the potential for a very ugly situation, especially for Ellie. At least when he had come to, the people around him knew who he was and what he was. Ellie didn't have that protection. She was at best a subject of interest and at worst, a threat. Either category was not going to be pleasant for her and that thought made Steve wary. She could very easily be taken advantage of. From the very little he could gather from their conversation, she was intelligent and suspicious. Two very good things to be, but she had to trust people on some level, in order to survive. Hell, she couldn't even speak any language on earth without the help of Stark's little gizmo. She had given him the tentative amount she could, but what about later? What was going to happen to her after today? Next week? Next year? He couldn't be responsible for her, he knew nearly nothing about her.

And yet, that part of him that had grown up during the Great Depression, that had been taught values now old-fashioned and held little importance in the modern society he had been thrust into, that part of him was rolling out like a sherman tank. Gallantry had been engrained in him; opening the door, providing for one's family, being the one who could fix anything and everything...it was a way of life that, no matter the distance of years, was still very much a part of him. His jaw tightened.

She was vulnerable, whether she would recognize it or not, and that was one thing that Steve couldn't just walk away from.

* * *

The door opened and Ellie stepped into the bright hallway. Steve straightened from the wall and looked her over approvingly. Thankfully, Hill hadn't stuck her in one of those form-fitting leather get-ups female SHIELD operatives were so fond of. Instead, she wore a very simple, loose, light green blouse and a pair of snug, light colored pants. A pair of richly dark brown boots completed her ensemble. Ellie held out her arms and looked down at herself.

"These garments are comfortable, and practical. I shall be able to move quite easily in them, although," she scrunched up her nose, "they are not the best clothes in which to hide."

She plucked at the blouse with her thumb and forefinger, shaking her head.

"It is too brightly dyed. I would stand out like blood on the skin."

Tony made a small humming sound as he moved to stand beside Steve.

"I'd say you stand out in all the right places, Ellie. In fact, I'd-"

He fell silent as he caught sight of Steve's expression from his right. Instead he offered his most charming smile.

"You'll blend in nicely, Ellie, don't you worry."

She apparently hadn't noticed anything the billionaire had said, because she turned to Steve, her head tilting and causing waves of brown hair to spill over her shoulder.

"We are to meet Nick Fury in another room, are we not?"

Steve nodded.

"Yeah. Come on, we'll break in those new boots of yours."

Giving him a small smile, she returned his nod and fell into step beside him. The rest of their trek through the facility was silent. Steve concentrated, keeping the mental map that he had made of the base firmly in his mind's eye. One right, another left, left again, and straight down until you see the doors. Pleased with himself, he strode through the sliding doors and held out a chair for Ellie. Noting that she had that dubious look again, as she glanced around the room and then at the chair, he explained.

"You sit in them and they can move. See?"

He demonstrated, swiveling the leather chair left, then right, and finally wheeled it in a small circle. Nodding, Ellie gingerly sat down and Steve followed her example, sliding into a seat beside her. As they settled in, an agent came in with a wheeled tray. Parking it to the side, he lifted four dishes off its surface and placed the aromatic food in front of them. Ellie seemed puzzled at first by the silverware, but after watching Bruce utilize them, she quickly picked the skill up. She studied the plate quietly and Steve glanced at her.

"What's wrong?"

She gestured to the food, poking at it with her fork.

"I do not know what it is. I know that this is meat, but this white mound looks like snow. But it is hot, I can tell by the steam."

"That's mashed potatoes."

"Oh. Does it taste good?"

"Try it and you tell me."

Frowning, she took a very tiny bite. Steve waited as her eyes lit up and a grin curved her lips. Satisfied that she was eating, Steve dug into his own plate.

By the time Fury entered the room, the dishes had been cleared and Steve was leaning back in his chair, patting his full stomach. Ellie, for her part, was smiling like a lazy cat. The director glanced at her as he made his way to the head of the table.

"I trust you enjoyed your meal, Ms. Ellie?"

She nodded vigorously, much to the amusement of the other men in the room.

"Very much, my thanks."

"You're welcome. If I'd been in a stone coffin for as long as we suspect you've been, I suppose I'd be pretty hungry too. Now!"

The director sat down in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him as his elbows braced on the table. His visible eye glittered in the artifical light.

"I imagine that you have quite a story. Not only that, but I believe that you can tell us quite a bit about a time in history that we no longer know anything about. But first, I'd like to know just you are, Ms. Ellie."

Stark had removed his armor and was leaning back in his chair with the hooded look that Steve had come to know as his intrigued expression. Banner, for his part, was mimicking Fury and leaning forward, his arms on the table. It was the most animated that Steve had seen the scientist when he wasn't in his hulking, green form. For his part, Steve could admit that he was also somewhat curious about the woman they had recovered from the sarcophagus. His gaze slid over to her as she lifted a hand to touch the small device he had given her at her throat. Ellie was looking at Fury with a calculating expression, as if she was wondering just how much to tell the man across from them.

"I am," she broke off then, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I was- I was an apprentice to my mother. I was meant to one day take over her post as _máthair ó na talún. _It is-was-the duty of all eldest daughters in my family."

Bruce frowned.

"Your mother was a healer of some sort? And you were to take her place? That's not so uncommon."

Ellie shook her head, biting her lip.

"Not exactly. She did not heal wounds or illness, at least, not those of the body."

Fury cut in.

"You were going to be a priestess?"

Once again, Ellie shook her head, spreading her hands helplessly.

"I do not know the words to explain what she was, nor what I am. _Tá mé an glór an domhain. Tá mé an t-amhrán de na crainn."_

Tony tilted his head.

"An elemental?" he guessed.

Ellie looked at him with a frown.

"I do not understand the word."

Stark leaned forward and pointed to her hands.

"Why don't you show us what you can do? What you were meant to do."

She glanced over to Steve, who nodded to her. Letting out a shaky breath, she plucked the small machine from her throat and held it in her palm. She closed her eyes a moment and when she opened them, Steve noticed that they were unfocused.

"_Focail cré, labhairt liom ionas gur féidir liom a insint __do mhian_," she spoke softly, closing her fist around the device.

There wasn't any great flash of light, no hum of tremedous power. Steve felt something whisper across his skin, an awareness that slithered at the edge of his consciousness and yet he knew that there was something else in the room with them. As his eyes flickered towards the director, he could tell that Fury had the same impression, one hand resting at his hip. He watched as the one-eyed man's thumb flicked across the snap as Ellie lowered her hand to the table, her eyes still glazed.

When she opened her palm, Steve heard everyone in the room take a breath in one collective hiss.

Whew, boy.

* * *

_**A/N: Cliffhanger! I know, I'm evil...*cackles* Anyhoo, let me know what you all think so far! I hope you enjoyed it, please leave a review, I love them (and a big thank you to those of you have did leave one, it made me a very happy writer indeed!). Stay tuned!**_


	4. The Stars and Their Secrets

A storm was rolling in.

The middle-aged woman who sat at her vanity paid the heavy, dark clouds little attention as she painstakingly twisted another strand of her artificially burnished hair. The room was softly lit, the walls paneled in a deep, rich mahogany, the furniture ornately carved from the same wood. Thick, heavy Victorian rugs ran across the expansive floor, leading to a massive four-poster bed, the deeply-dyed silk sheets neatly made. Large paintings in gilded frames hung from the walls, two gorgeous portraits framing the sweeping French doors that led to a stone balcony.

Her fingers tenderly probed the soft flesh of her cheek, feathering over the bangs that fell across her high forehead. Apparently shifting her attention, she dropped her hand and then held a strand of pearls to her neck, pursing her dark, red-stained lips as she considered them in the large mirror. With a huff, she threw them onto the dresser and snatched up a string of emeralds, enjoying how the light playing off of them reflected the green of her eyes. With a nod of satisfaction, she precisely linked the hook with the loop. As the jewels settled against the exposed, freckled skin of her cleavage, the door behind her opened. A well-dressed man strode in, his expression thunderous. The woman caught sight of him in her mirror and half-turned.

"George?"

He didn't answer, marching across the room, and throwing open the doors leading to the balcony. Frowning, the woman rose, the shimmering dress that draped her body rustling as she moved to follow George out onto the balcony. His salt and pepper hair was gently brushed by the breeze, tousling it as he braced his hands on the marble railing. Her hand fluttered against the doorway.

"George, what's the matter?"

He turned his head to regard her over his shoulder. His fingers curled around the stone, his knuckles white. She could see sweat beginning to gather on his upper lip, his bright blue eyes slightly dulled. Concern flashed across her heavily made up features and she stepped out, the wind catching the hem of her dress, making it billow to the side as she reached up a hand to lightly touch his back. A breath shuddered out of him and he hung his head.

"They woke her up, Lily."

She froze, her eyes wide. Slowly, she swallowed, bringing her hands together in front of her in an almost defensive gesture. Her gaze sputtered back and forth, upwards, then to the stone floor beneath her feet. Finally, she said,

"Do they know?"

"Who do you think told him, Lily, my dear?" a brogue-roughened voice asked from behind them.

The couple whirled around, their faces pale. Recovering first, Lily, walked forward, her hands outstretched in a grandiose show of welcome.

"Your Grace, it is delightful to see you so soon after our last meeting."

"I'm sure it is," came the purred reply, low and smooth.

She dropped her hands and her gaze immediately just as she crossed the threshold of the room. George stood at her back, edging around her to incline his head respectfully, his hand covering his heart. A white, ghostly, and slender hand waved away the formalities before clasping its mate behind the ramrod straight back. His body was narrow, his features showing in the mirror as he turned as pointed, angular and harsh. The eyes that fell on Lily's were mercurial silver, cold, and devoid of life. Translucent skin, hollow cheeks and thin lips were reminiscent of a corpse or a being that had never seen sunlight. His hair was neatly tied back with a thin black cord, the tresses interwoven with strands of iron gray and shimmering white.

The soles of his supple leather shoes whispered over the surface of the rug as he turned his full attention on the pair. His head tilted sharply, the corners of his lips lifting momentarily as Lily flinched. George shot her a glance out of the corner of his eye, then cleared his throat.

"Are we to proceed as we have been planning, Your Grace? If they have awakened her, it could be-"

"Your concern is noted, Senator," the reply cut sharply and both people took a step back before the man continued, "But it is unnecessary. She will not be able to interfere nor will SHIELD achieve enough information to act in time."

He breezed past the couple, stepping out into the heavy, evening air. The couple exchanged a nervous glance, then Lily inclined her head once more.

"We will put aside our concerns, Your Grace, and take comfort in your greater wisdom."

There was a quiet chuckle, more like an amused hissing sound.

"Always so formal, Lily. It's what I like the most about you. Now, I suggest you both make your way to your party this evening. There are many people who are more than willing to donate funds to your charity front," he half-turned to look at them, eyes glittering maliciously, "And we are going to need quite a bit more if we are to implement the next phase."

Both gave him a small bow and departed quickly, nearly scurrying, which only furthered his amusement. Thunder rolled across the city below, the yellow lights from the streets blinking in and out of sight through the sheets of rain that slowly flowed towards the mansion. A whisper of power slithered from behind him but he did not turn.

"Humans lack our patience, brother. It is why we have guided them for centuries, is it not?" he murmured as a figure stepped into the shadows cast by the artificial lights beside him.

"You've never been one to state the obvious, Rigel. Does the rain make you sentimental?" the question was soft, though he clearly discerned the gently mocking tone beneath the words. It made him smile wryly.

"Hardly," he turned his head to look at his claimed sibling, the two nearly identical, except that the new male wore his hair cropped short, "Though I may be falling back into the trap by asking what orders you bring me. I do not believe that the Conclave is going to idly sit when the Speaker has been released."

A breathy laugh.

"You are right, my perceptive friend," again, the mocking tone and Rigel scowled deeply, turning his gaze back to the drenched city, "But for the moment, we are to wait. We will not make the first, hasty move and reveal ourselves too soon. From what we've gathered, she is not even aware of us yet. I think we can all agree that we would like to keep it that way for as long as possible."

"From the shadows of stars we strike," Rigel intoned quietly, as if the words were a half-formed memory. The figure beside him nodded and he waved his hand. "Thank you, Saiph, for your time, as always."

"You have picked up the humans' phrases, I see. Or have you forgotten that time has always been _our_ servant?"

The question remained unanswered as the rain began to patter onto the stone, the balcony empty and no wind stirred.

* * *

Steve waited patiently as the elevator rose, the bag in his hand wrinkling as he shifted his burden. A drink carrier was upheld in his other hand and he bent his head down to take a long gulp from the straw of his soda. Coca-cola had always been his favorite and seventy years alseep in the ice hadn't changed that. There was a soft dinging sound and the metallic door slid open silently. He stepped out into a spacious room, sunlight brightening the area cheerfully. The large windows offered a magnificent view of Manhattan as he strode towards the bar, setting down the carrier and the bag. When he turned, he grinned, spotting Tony, Pepper, and Ellie gathered around the massive television. Walking over, he was pleased to see one controller in Ellie's hands, her eyes glued to the screen as her fingers blurred over the many buttons.

Two weeks awake and she was adapting quickly, he was pleased to see. It was a reassuring thing to see, he thought, sobering a little; she had alot more to learn than he had. SHIELD had not been entirely happy with the prospect of the young woman outside their base, but they had bent their knee, metaphorically speaking, to the great Tony Stark's request. Fury did not like being bullied, but Steve had pointed out the value of Ellie experiencing the modern world in order to understand it and the director had relented. Moving her into Tony's tower in New York seemed ideal. It was close enough to civilization that she could watch and question, and isolated enough that no one would be the wiser. Steve had agreed with SHIELD on that one point. Neither the world nor Ellie was ready for her to emerge just yet. For her, she was still too vulnerable, the world still too new. For them, the horror of the near invasion of Loki's army was still too near.

There was only so long, though, before she realized that, as nice as her existence at the moment might be, it was just another box, all the same. Steve knew that, Tony knew that. The Captain just hoped that by the time she knew that, she would be ready to accept the ramifications of her choice. God knew, he still had difficulty getting used to how the world worked these days and there was no doubt that Ellie would have a much harder time. That was in the future, however. For the moment, she was relatively happy and had bonded rather quickly with Tony and Pepper, he was surprised to see.

"Listen, you dusty hag, I'm unbeatable in this game. No one's ever taken down my high score and there's no way you'll-"

The screen flashed as an explosion burst through the speakers, huge letters blinking as Ellie smirked, turning to shake Pepper's hand, the redhead grinning happily.

"Alright, beginner's luck."

Ellie turned to him with her head tilted. She was wearing a soft blue t-shirt and yoga pants, on loan from Pepper, Steve suspected, and her bright eyes were gleaming with mirth. The small device at her throat was in place and she gave Tony a small, pleased smile.

"I believe our wager was that if I win, you'd escort Pepper to the festival you are to attend in full traditional garb?"

Tony sulked, his arms crossing, his expression an obvious pout.

"That bet wasn't fair, old woman. I wasn't informed that you had a natural talent for _Space Invaders."_

Ellie's expression didn't change.

"_Buachaill_, no one can give you information. That is the price of knowing everything."

"You wound me," Stark said, dramatically grabbing his glowing chest and slumping over the arm of the leather couch.

The women exchanged an amused glance and Pepper patted Ellie's arm.

"Don't worry, his ego is nigh indestructible. He'll bounce back."

Ellie's brow furrowed and before she could ask, Steve stepped in.

"He'll recover, Ellie," she turned and looked up at him before nodding with a bright smile, "Come on, I brought cheeseburgers."

The brunette's viridian eyes lit up at the mention of cheeseburgers. With a fleet agility that belied her small stature, she was vaulting over the back of the couch and darting towards the bar. Rummaging through the bag, she pulled out a wrapped sandwich with a crow of triumph. Steve saw the devious curve of Stark's lips just seconds before it all went down.

As Ellie's fingers began to undo the wrapping, Stark blurred past Steve, stiffening his legs and letting his socked feet slid across the slick, hardwood floor. With a flick of his wrist, he streaked past Ellie, snatching the burger from her loose grasp. Gasping at the unexpected theft of her lunch, Ellie whirled as Tony bolted around the sofa.

"Revenge!"

_"Bastaird! a thabhairt go bhfuil ar ais!_"

Steve didn't understand what she said but he could have guessed. Her lips curled into a mock snarl as she bolted across the room and leaped over the sofa. Surprised, Tony wasn't fast enough, and she tackled him. Only a moment of struggle and she had retrieved her food. Hopping off the subdued inventor, she ripped off the paper and took a big bite, murmuring happily as she plopped back down on the sofa. Easing out of his leather jacket and tossing it over a stool, Steve juggled two drinks and his own burger, handing one to Ellie as he sat down next to her. Pepper bent down and helped Stark get back to his feet, the billionaire muttering under his breath about short, female commandos and their disdain for practical jokes.

Biting into the cheeseburger, Steve chuckled to himself. A companionable silence descended as Pepper picked up the digital remote and flipped through the channels. She settled on a documentary on African animals, a cheetah dashing across the dry grassland and taking down an antelope. Steve spent the remainder of their meal watching Ellie's face as her wide eyes were raptly glued to the screen. Pepper must have been indulging her. Tony had shown her the beast of a television and what it did. At first she had seemed intimidated by it, almost as much as she was by the truck they had ridden in to bring her to New York. It had taken Steve almost twenty minutes to explain to her that it was a means of transportation.

"Like the carriages the Roman chieftains used?" she had asked.

"Exactly, except there aren't any horses to pull it," he had explained.

That had intrigued her and they had spent a large part of the trip with him describing the different ways people traveled in the modern world and she had listened with interest. Steve glanced at her again, wondering at how funny the world was when a woman who by all rights should have been long dead thousands of years ago had been thrown into the twenty-first century.

It also made him consider why she had been placed in that coffin in the first place. She hadn't really elaborated on that, though it had been the first question Fury had asked after she demonstrated her ability. She hadn't answered and he figured that not even she was entirely certain. Perhaps she couldn't remember due to the stasis her body had been in for so long. Perhaps she didn't want to.

Then he shrugged, because it really wasn't any of his business in the first place.

* * *

Steve folded his arms behind his head and stretched out his long legs. Ellie had tucked her own legs beneath her, her head propped on the fist that rested against her temple on the other side of the couch. Tony's arms were wrapped around Pepper's middle as she sat between his legs on the rug. Silently, as the film they were watching came to an end, Ellie stood up and padded across the room towards the windows. Her arms were loosely crossed over her flat stomach as she gazed out at the softly lit skyscrapers that rose from the street, some even higher than the Stark Tower. Letting out a breath, Steve stood and stretched, putting a hand to his neck to crack it. Humming out a pleased sound as it gave with a dull pop, he walked over towards Ellie's still figure.

He stood beside her as she quietly looked out, her viridian eyes roving across the rising structures of steel and glass.

"If I ask if you're still getting used to things, are you going to mock me?" He asked her as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

She glanced over at him with a bright smile.

"No, the _buachaill_ hasn't rubbed off on me that much."

He let out a snort of laughter.

"Yeah, so I see," he met her eyes with a grin, "and you're picking up how we speak pretty easily."

She tapped the small machine at her throat with a blunt fingernail.

"This helps, you know."

He nodded.

"I know."

Ellie's smile didn't fade, plucking the device from her flesh and holding it in her palm, her fingers wrapping over it. Her eyes closed and her lips moved. When her hand opened again, a tiny metallic humanoid stood on the lines of her palm. It's eyes glowed a soft blue, the color flowing down its body mimicking the tattoos that swirled over her skin. Carefully balanced, its legs moved, striding up to the tip of her finger. She raised her hand to eye level, holding it out towards Steve.

"As Tony observed, I am only part of the old hag's potential brigade," a small, tinny voice noted in a tone that he could tell was Ellie's dry humor bleeding through.

Steve chuckled, his eyes crinkling as he watched the little being parade over her hand before it collapsed in on itself. It melted into a liquid, silver pool and slid to the middle of her palm, only to reform as the language modulator. Fingering it briefly, she placed it back against her flesh.

"And you can make those...homunculi, I think Bruce called them...out of anything?" he asked with a note of appreciation in his voice, her soft laughter bringing his eyes up to her face.

"No. Only things of _miothal_ or _ithir_. _An Domhain_ is gracious, but she is not all-giving. I can only make the _Sí _ out of what she provides me."

He gave her a strange look, his smile slipping and she shook her head.

"It's a better explanation than the one you gave to me about how those horse-less monsters work or how men fly without magic."

Steve shrugged.

"I guess the truth is the truth no matter how strange it sounds."

"Aye, I suppose you are right."

They fell silent for a little while after that, each lost in their own thoughts as the moon rose higher in the sky, barely visible through the bright city lights. Ellie broke the quiet.

"I miss seeing the stars. I had thought that when I awoke that the sky would have been the first thing I would see," she said in a wistful tone.

Steve looked over at her thoughtfully.

"You saw the first thing I did, a white and gray ceiling. It wasn't very welcoming, was it?"

She shook her head, biting her lip. Then she turned to face him fully, her wide eyes looking up at him with a gentle expression.

"No, it wasn't. You were."

A flush rushed to Steve's cheeks at the simple honesty in her gaze and he broke eye contact with her, his hands still in his pockets. Clearing his throat, he was relieved to see that she had moved her attention back to the window. He followed her line of sight and touched her shoulder, pointing up.

"Look, there's Orion's belt. See the bright line of stars right there?"

She squinted up where he was pointing.

"No, where?"

He tugged at the sleeve of her t-shirt, pulling her closer to him. The dark waves of her hair brushed his bicep as she leaned close to his forearm. Ellie looked up along the line of his finger. She placed her finger next to his.

"Those three stars in a line right there?"

He nodded, her hair tickling his chin.

"Yeah. That's Orion's belt. The bright one just under those is his foot and the one above and to the right is the tip of his arrow."

"Ah, that is beautiful. I know those stars, but we did not call them Orion. Why do you call it that?"

"I think its a really old story. Maybe you know it?"

She shook her head again, her hair feathering against his nose again as he lowered his arm and the scent of grass wafted past him from the dark strands. Ellie's arm came down as well and he stepped to her side. She turned her head to look up at him.

"I do not know the name. Perhaps it was a story from another-another country, I think is the word. Our _fir ciallmhar _ told us that the hunter, Fiach, ascended to the sky to pursue his sister and love, Fianna, the daughter of Rythom, the god of winds. She became a deer and fled to the house of her mother's people, _an réaltaí_, the stars. To catch her, he chased after her and drew his bow to shoot her as she ran from him. But their mother, Thian, blinded him and so they will always run across the sky."

Steve watched the night sky as she spoke.

"That's a pretty sad story, Ellie."

She nodded, her hands cupping her elbows.

"It is. It is one of the saddest tales I know," she bent her head, "The stories about the _réaltaí_ are never happy ones. The ___fir ciallmhar_ said that they were cursed by Uthir, the ancestor of my mother's house."

He frowned at her for a moment.

"And you miss them? The-the _rea-reatea-"_

_"_The _réaltaí, _Steve," she said with a smile, obviously pleased that he was attempting her language.

She repeated the word slowly, but he stumbled over it. She shook her head with a laugh, reaching out a hand.

"Here," she grasped his fingers with hers, bringing his hand to her jaw. His fingers cupped one cheek, his thumb the other.

"Now," she instructed calmly, "feel my mouth move and watch my lips. Then repeat after me."

Licking his suddenly dry lips, Steve nodded and she slowly pronounced the word. He watched her closely and tried to mime the way her mouth moved.

"_R__éaltaí_."

She grinned up at him happily, her eyes dancing.

"Yes! Oh, wondeful Steve!"

Her exuberance was infectious and Steve found himself grinning down at her as he dropped his hand.

"Nice to know it takes so little to make you happy."

She froze and although she was still smiling, there was something melancholy about it, brittle.

"Do you know how long it has been since someone spoke my own language with me?" she touched a hand to her throat, "Without the aid of this small ma-machine?"

Steve swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, mentally kicking himself. Of course it would mean alot to her. Ellie patted his shoulder as she walked past him, but not before he saw how suspiciously bright her eyes had become in the dim light from the television. He looked up at the row of stars that twinkled silently. To be the last of your family was terrible, but to be the last of your people? To know that everything died with you; the memories, the stories, a way of life...the thought must have crossed her mind more than once since she had opened her eyes.

Steve grimaced as he rubbed the back of his neck. Then, with a sigh, he turned his back to the starlight. It wasn't like they held any answers for anyone.

* * *

**_A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the newest chapter! Thank you all for the reviews, favs, and alerts! Let me know what you all think! Till next time! :)_**


	5. Whispers in the Wind

_**A/N: **_**Sorry I haven't updated in so long, gang, I've had to finish other writing projects, as well as life in general just getting in the way. However, I should be updating more frequently from here on out! So three cheers and a review, yes? :)**

**This chapter is going to be a little bit shorter than the previous ones, but it's kind of a setting up for further developments. I promise the next chapter to be much longer!**

**As always, read and enjoy!**

* * *

Director Fury sat, stonefaced, behind his large, ebony colored desk, his fingers steepled as his elbows rested on the arms of his chair. Files sprawled across the shiny surface in front of him, but he paid them no mind. His good eye was focused intently on the far wall, his mouth set in a firm line. The flat screen that was propped at the corner of his desk blipped and lines upon lines of green type flowed upwards, information racing too fast to read.

That hardly mattered, as he already had a fairly good idea what each report already contained. While he did not possess a perfect memory, it was damn close. As the commander of the most extensive protection agency in the world, it was a necessity.

The sliding door that led into his office silently opened and Agent Hill strode in, two other agents flanking her as she stopped in the middle of the room. It was a spartan space, sleek and mostly unfurnished. Fury's eye glanced over as he swiveled his chair, crossing his leg casually.

"What have you got for me, Agent Hill?"

She cleared her throat, her chin lifting.

"Nothing new at the moment, sir. We have a few leads and I have dispatched several agents to follow them up."

Fury nodded absently, his gaze having fallen to his desk as she spoke. His dark eye flicked up.

"Dismissed," he said tersely and she saluted smartly before spinning on her heel.

When his office was once again empty, he stood, clasping his hands behind his back and walking around the desk.

"Open file 24563, center."

There was a soft beep followed by a hologram being projected to his left, at the exact center of the room. Lifting a hand, Fury flicked through various crime scene photographs, blowing up one specific photo with a gesture. He studied it silently.

A man lay facedown in the middle of an alley, most of his body in a dirty, murky puddle of rainwater. The asphalt was obviously wet, the man's clothes darkly stained with dampness. His shoes were scuffed, the soles possessing numerous holes and revealing the bare feet that they contained. A heavy garment, perhaps a coat, had been lain across his head, but whether it had been an attempt to mask his identity or even an act of kindness, to keep his head dry pre-mortem, there was no definitive method of knowing. It had been pulled back, however, revealing a man that had been quite surprised, and horrified, by his death. The features were relatively handsome, with a strong jaw, straight nose, and once luminous blue eyes.

All of the observations that could be made seemed routine, a street crime that the local coroner could handle, all except for two facts.

It was time to make a phone call, Fury noted dryly, as he reached for the cell on his desk.

* * *

Crushed stone crunched beneath his boots as Steve walked across the rooftop of Stark Tower. He squinted his eyes against the harsh sunlight, the roar of traffic, people, and horns distant, yet still audible even so high up. He strode towards the edge of the building and the slender figure that was perched on it, her legs drawn up to her chest, her gaze turned away from him. The drafts that rushed up and around the structure whipped the waves of her hair around her, sweeping it away from her face.

Tony had told him that Ellie had been going stir crazy in the penthouse and he had suggested that she go up to the roof for some air.

"You do not know how to walk quietly, do you, Steve?" she asked him without looking back at him.

He grinned as he drew up beside her.

"Is that how you knew it was me?"

She shook her head, her lips turned up in a wry smile.

"Tony would not come looking for me when he knew where I was and Pepper is not here, so that only left you."

"Ah, so more a show of deduction than amazing hearing skills."

Ellie laughed, her eyes twinkling.

"I believe the term that is used these days is 'mad skills'."

His lips twitched.

"Stark taught you that?"

"Indeed."

He glanced down over the edge of the building, drafts of air buffeting his face.

"What's the word for wind?" he asked suddenly and she tilted her head, watching him a moment before answering.

"_Gaoth_."

"_Gaoth?_" he asked.

Steve watched her bite back a smile of approval, and perhaps amusement at his clumsy pronunciation, before he offered her his hand.

"C'mon, let's get you inside before a stray gust blows you off the building."

Her smile widened into a grin to match his as she accepted his hand. It still fascinated him how small her hands seemed when his larger one covered it. With a gentle tug, he pulled her to her feet. Her palm was calloused and rough against his and he absently ran his thumb across the softer, smoother skin on the back of her hand. When she looked up at him, he released her and gestured for her to lead. Neither of the spoke as they moved towards the steel door that lead to a short flight of stairs. Once they ahd descended, Steve reached past the petite brunette to heave the massive door ahead of them open. She gave him a curious glance, but seemed to let it go.

He had tried to explain to her yesterday some of the customs that he had grown up with, but it only seemed to confuse her when she compared them to how Stark behaved. He had finally just given up, citing experience as the best teacher. Ellie had appeared to accept his logic well enough, letting the subject drop, which he was grateful for.

"Steve," his name in her soft lilt brought his attention out of his reverie.

"Hmm?"

He shortened his stride as they walked down a long corridor, his hands in stuffed in the pockets of his jeans casually while hers clasped behind her back. Despite his effort, she still rushed a little to keep up with him.

"I wish to know why you named me Ellie."

The quiery startled him a little and he looked down past his shoulder with a frown, but was only able to see the crown of her honey brown hair.

"I thought we went over this already, Ellie," he lifted one broad shoulder in a shrug, "You just look like an Ellie to me. It fits you."

She lifted her head then, clear eyes glittering specuatively.

"Yes, you said that, but why? Why does it fit me?"

The corner of his lips twitched as he fought to keep back a smile.

"Well, it's short, kinda like you."

He lifted his hand from his pocket to hol dit far above her head, emphasizing their difference in height as he brought his palm over the top of his own head. Ellie scowled up at him, though the crinkle at the corner of her eyes gave away her amusement.

"So, it is only to point out my shortcomings?" she asked with a small smirk, her fingertip pressed against her lip slyly.

He laughed, following an impluse to ruffle the wavy strands, an act that he was promptly elbowed for.

"No, no, I didn't think of that when 'Ellie' came to me. I've just always had an image of what an 'Ellie' would be like and you fit. Nice, pretty, quiet...y'know, an 'Ellie'."

He spread his hands in front of him with another shrug and she let out a sigh.

"I suppose I can accept that. It's just-"

"Names worked differently for your people," he finished for her quietly, leaning towards her to bump her shoulder with his arm gently.

She nodded, her expression soft, and sad.

"Names _meant _something to us. _A thabhairt ar ár n-ainmneacha dúinn críche_...our names give us purpose."

He held open another door for her, one that led to a comfortable kind of den. Huge plasma televisions lined the walls, different gaming consoles marching in front of the shiny black surfaces. Couches, bean bag chairs, ploofy lounge chairs were scattered. Choosing one at random, Ellie curled into the end of one comfortable looking couch while Steve plopped down on the other end, happily stretching out his long legs.

"What purpose would you have wanted to have?" he asked, crossing his legs at the ankles and folding his arms behind his head.

Ellie shrugged quietly.

"It wouldn't have been for me to say. My purpose, like my name, would have been chosen for me. My mother's place as the _máthair ó na talún_ would more than likely have ensured that I would have assumed her role."

Steve's brows rose.

"And what would that have been?"

Ellie's eyes drifted closed and Steve immediately regreted asking the question. It was bad enough that she had no one to relate to, but he didn't have to be constantly reminding her of her lack of a home, a culture, a people...

She looked up then, viridian eyes cutting towards him with an understanding smile.

"I will not break, Steve. And it is good to talk about home. I would have been a mother to my people, a guide and a healer. Someone who's word was absolute because it was not I that would speak. The _máthair ó na talún_ give voice to the will of _An Domhain_. She speaks-spoke, to the women in my family. It was a gift, and a burden."

Steve nodded slowly.

"I suppose it was. Its-hard to imagine."

Her smile didn't waver.

"I suppose it is," she replied, echoing him.

"Tried out some of this video games yet?" he asked, changing the subject with a wave of his hand. Ellie nodded with a pleased grin.

"Tony says that I'm quite good."

He snorted a laugh, leaning forward and pulling his legs up to rest his forearms on his thighs.

"If Stark says it, you can pretty much take it to the bank. Care to teach the old dog a new trick?"

She blinked, her head tilting and Steve bit back the groan of frustration. He really needed to tell Banner thank you for being patient enough to explain the multitude of phrases and references that he had been lost on. He could really relate to how the scientist must have felt.

"Wanna show me how some of these games work?" he rephrased and her face lit up.

She didn't answer, just bent over to scoop up the two controllers that were resting on the small coffee table in front of them. She handed him one and grasped the other in one hand as she reached to turn the console on. A green light illuminated the her skin softly before she leaned back, settling into the cushions comfortably.

"Tony showed me this one last night. It's some kind of soldier game. I think it'd be an appropriate choice."

Steve wasn't sure whether he should be flattered that she was considering his background or to be offended that she thought he wouldn't enjoy any other kind of game. As it was, he decided to be flattered, the cinematic immediately drawing his attention.

Time passed quickly as Ellie carefully explained the mechanics of the game. It amused and frustrated him that those instructions often followed a bloody character death on his side of the screen. Frankly, he found watching her expressions to be far more entertaining, and revealing, than keeping his eyes focused on the television. Her lips would move as she strategized, her eyebrows liftings when she had crystallized her plan. Every time he eluded her, her bottom lip would disappear, starting the process over again; and when she landed a solid kill, her eyes lit like Christmas lights.

He'd had to call it quits though, when she had reached her twenty-fourth kill. It had little t do with the blow to his pride and everything to do with throw she had reached into the decorative vase at her elbow, pulled out several blue stones, transformed them into a tiny being, and then had promptly placed it on his shoulder. For moral support, she had said, with gleaming eyes and a half smile.

"You just need an informant," he teased and her brow had quirked.

"Since when?" she shot back, making him chuckle.

"Alright, alright."

He set down the controller, leaning back and stretching his arms far over his head. The vertebrae in his spine gave with a dull pop. Ellie winced at the sound, then cracked her knuckles dramatically. Shaking his head, Steve stood and moved towards the large windows. He pointed.

"Ever seen anything like it?" He asked and she rose to see what he meant.

He tapped his index finger against the glass, watching the society lights flicker to life one by one as the sun set. It was like looking at an ocean of candles, or fireflies, each one lit in rapid succession. Steve glanced over at Ellie, who was shaking her head.

"The only thing I have seen in my lifetime that could compare was when the _daoine _gathered_. _And that pales in comparison." She was quiet for moment, before adding, "It is like seeing our fires through the eyes of the Rathan."

When he looked at her quizzically, she elaborated.

"They are spirits. Many of our warriors acted as...vessels, for them. My eldest brother was one."

"You had brothers?"

She held up her hand, fingers splayed with that same sad smile he'd seen earlier.

"Four. Only one of them was younger than me. I had two younger sisters as well."

Steve shifted closer to her, his expression gentle.

"What were their names?"

Ellie shook her head, her arms wrapping around her middle.

"The words no longer exist to say, in my tongue or yours. Their names were old, full of a deeper meaning that this world doesn't understand...and neither do I, anymore." She looked down, lifting a hand beneath the waves of her hair to rub at the back of her neck. "I'm sorry, that was probably a more elaborate explanation than you were looking for. Suffice to say, I don't remember how to say their names anymore."

He didn't rightly understand what she meant, but he figured that she didn't either, so he just shrugged, giving her a crooked smile to make her feel more comfortable.

"Well-" he started, but she cut him off with a quiet laugh.

"That is a deep subject."

Steve let out a snort, relieved to see her heavier mood lifting.

"You think?"

She nodded, chewing on her bottom lip to keep the laughter that threatened to spill at bay. Threading her fingers through the wavy strands of her hair to tuck them behind her ear, she tilted her head at him. Suddenly, she braced her feet, sticking one hand in the pocket the jeans she had borrowed from Pepper and stuck her thumb up and over her shoulder.

"Wanna play some more?" she asked, the lilt of her voice disappearing and replaced with a harsher, quicker, clipped tone.

He grinned at her then, ruffling her hair again because she deserved it for impersonating him and, while he might not admit it, he liked how soft the honeyed locks felt against his fingers.

"You learn quick, kid. Just-take it easy on the old man, huh?"

The wicked spark in her eye told him that she would have her revenge for his impertinence.

* * *

Tony Stark leaned back in his comfortable office chair, his bare feet crossed and propped on the edge of his desk. Idly, he tossed a baseball up in the air, catching it again, only to repeat the motion as he listened. His other hand braced against his cheek, index finger reaching up to rub at his temple lightly. The voice on the other end of the line droned on, but he wasn't paying much attention. His brilliant mind had already made the connections.

"So you really think this guy's murder had to do with Ellie?"

The voice stopped and Tony lifted his feet to lean forward, waiting for the denials that were sure to follow his inquiry.

"I never said that," came the careful reply.

Tony reached over and plucked an apple from the fruit basket Pepper had left on his desk, taking a big bite.

"But, you were leading up to say it."

Silence resounded again and Tony took another chunk from the tart fruit, crunching loudly as he gestured towards the sleek, black phone.

"Y'know, you've really got to quit assuming that I don't know everything you do, Nick."

If his jibe had any effect, Fury kept it to himself.

"The man had a perfect hole punched right through his heart and clean through the other side. He's found in an alley two blocks from that monstrosity you built and it happens just after she moves into that thing? You try and tell me that isn't a helluva coincidence."

Tony had to give the man's bluntness credit.

"Yeah, it is a helluva coincidence. Doesn't mean that she had anything to do with it."

"I didn't call you to ask your opinion, Mr. Stark, but to inform you that you might have more than you bargained for on your hands. This was a courtesy and I'd suggest that you remember that."

The line went dead, leaving Tony to consider the conversation at length. He swiveled in his chair, watching the lights twinkle in the distance.

He seriously doubted that Ellie had anything to do with the murder of a man she couldn't have even been aware existed. He considered the possibility that she might not have been trapped in that stone box for centuries, but the evidence to the contrary was much too compelling. Could someone be trying to send her a message? Also highly unlikely, she hadn't been out of the tower since she'd arrived almost a month ago.

One by one, he spun theories and subsequently discarded them. He let out a sigh, scrubbing a hand across his face. Really, the best course of action was to ask if Ellie knew anything about it, see what she said. Even if she hadn't been completely honest with them, who could blame her? She knew as little about their world as they did hers. They had simply pulled her out of coffin built to keep her away from the rest of humanity and had just placed her in another. The only difference was that she was awake to know it.

Tony stood and stretched, padding across the plush carpet and heading for the elevator at the far end of the room.

Hopefully Captain Spangled Tights wouldn't toss him out a window for what he was about to do.


End file.
